£ 


GIFT   OF 

THOMAS   RIP  >  BACON 

MEMOR 


75 


THE  SCHOOL-BOY, 


BY 


OLIVER  WENDELL   HOLMES. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


BOSTON: 

HOUGHTON,  OSGOOD  AND   COMPANY. 
Oje  HifcerstDc  press,  CambriDgc. 

1879. 


COPYRIGHT,  1878, 
BY  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES- 

All  rights  reserved. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 

ELECTROTYPED    AND  PRINTED  BY 

H.  O.  HOUGHTON  AND  COMPANY. 


ite 7 


TO   THE 

STUDENTS   OF   PHILLIPS   ACADEMY, 

ANDOVER,    MASSACHUSETTS. 


READ  AT  THE  CENTENNIAL  CELEBRATION, 
June  6, 1878. 


284694 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THE  GREAT  ELM  AT   NORTH 

ANDOVER  

D.  C.  Hitchcock     .     .     . 

Frontispiece. 

ANDOVFR  HILL 

'Y.  Appleton  Brown 

1-2 

STORM  CIOUD 

7.  Appleton  Brown  . 

J 

I  C 

PLANCHETTE    

F.  T.  Merrill            .     . 

J 
.         .         .         .         17 

"NEW-FLEDGED  BIRDS".    .     . 

F.  T.  Merrill  .... 

....         19 

"TIRF.D  WANDERER"  .... 

F  T  Merrill 

21 

FAMILY  COACH     

W.  L.  Sheppard  .     .     . 

•      •       •       -.23 

"  THE    SCHOOL-BOY'S     CHOSEN 

HOME"  

D.  C.  Hitchcock  .     .     . 

.       .       .       .      2$ 

THE  SHY  MAIDEN    

W.  L.  Sheppard  .     .     . 

....       27 

ARIFL  . 

W.  L.  Sheppard  .     .     . 

T.I 

CATBIRD  AND  BLACKBIRD 

F  T  Merrill 

*j 

•7T 

THE  EMBRYO  POET  • 

W  I   Sheppard 

•j  r 

JJ 

"THE  CLASSIC  HALL"     . 

D.  C.  Hitchcock  . 

,      17 

Vll 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

THE  SCHOOL-ROOM W.  L.  Sheppard 39 

RECONCILIATION W.  L.  Sheppard 43 

"His  BLOOMING  IMAGE"     .     .    F.  T.Merrill 47 

"TENTED  PINES"     ...     .     .     .     J.  Appleton  Brown 49 

"PATRIARCH,"      "CHAMPION," 

"SCHOLAR" F.  T.Merrill 51 

GATES  AJAR W.  L.  Sheppard 53 

MANSION  HOUSE D.  C.  Hitchcock 57 

"THE  DARK  SHAWSHINE"  .    .    J.  Appleton  Brown 59 

MODERN  PROGRESS W.  L.  Sheppard 63 

MYCENAE A.  R.  Wand 65 

THE  BOAT  RACE A.  R.  Waud 69 

ETON  AND  ANDOVER    .     .     .     .    F.  T.  Merrill 71 

ROBINSON'S  ARCH     ...         .7.  Appleton  Brown 75 

ANDOVER  HILL,  SUNSET  ...     7.  Appleton  Brown 77 

SILOAM A.  R.  Waud 79 


IX 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 


THE  SCHOOL-BOY. 


THESE  hallowed  precincts,  long  to  memory  dear, 
Smile  with  fresh  welcome  as  our  feet  draw  near  ; 
With  softer  gales  the  opening  leaves  are  fanned, 
With  fairer  hues  the  kindling  flowers  expand, 
The  rose-bush  reddens  with  the  blush  of  June, 
The  groves  are  vocal  with  their  minstrel's  tune, 
The  mighty  elm,  beneath  whose  arching  shade 
The  wandering  children  of  the  forest  strayed, 


THE   SCHOOL-BOY. 

Greets  the  glad  morning  in  its  bridal  dress, 

And  spreads  its  arms  the  gladsome  dawn  to  bless. 

Is  it  an  idle  dream  that  nature  shares 
Our  joys,  our  griefs,  our  pastimes,  and  our  cares  ? 
Is  there  no  summons  when,  at  morning's  call, 
The  sable  vestments  of  the  darkness  fall  ? 
Does  not  meek  evening's  low-voiced  Ave  blend 
With  the  soft  vesper  as  its  notes  ascend  ? 
Is  there  no  whisper  in  the  perfumed  air, 
When  the  sweet  bosom  of  the  rose  is  bare  ? 
Does  not  the  sunshine  call  us  to  rejoice  ? 
Is  there  no  meaning  in  the  storm-cloud's  voice  ? 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

No  silent  message  when  from  midnight  skies 
Heaven  looks  upon  us  with  its  myriad  eyes  ? 

Or  shift  the  mirror ;    say  our  dreams  diffuse 
O'er  life's  pale  landscape  their  celestial  hues, 
Lend  heaven  the  rainbow  it  has  never  known, 
And  robe  the  earth  in  glories  not  its  own, 
Sing  their  own  music  in  the  summer  breeze, 
With  fresher  foliage  clothe  the  stately  trees, 
Stain  the  June  blossoms  with  a  livelier  dye 
And  spread  a  bluer  azure  on  the  sky, — 
Blest  be  the  power  that  works  its  lawless  will 
And  finds  the  weediest  patch  an  Eden  still  ; 


THE   SCHOOL-BOY. 

No  walls  so  fair  as  those  our  fancies  build,  — 
No  view  so  bright  as  those  our  visions  gild  ! 

So  ran  my  lines,  as  pen  and  paper   met, 
The  truant  goose-quill   travelling  like  Planchette  ; 
Too  ready  servant,   whose  deceitful  ways 
Full  many  a  slipshod  line,  alas  !  betrays  ; 
Hence  of  the  rhyming  thousand  not  a  few 
Have  builded  worse  —  a  great  deal  —  than  they  knew. 

What  need  of  idle  fancy  to  adorn 


Our  mother's  birthplace  on  her  birthday  morn  ? 
Hers  are  the  blossoms  of  eternal  spring, 
I'Yom  these  green  boughs  her    new-fledged   birds   take 
wing, 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

These  echoes  hear  their  earliest  carols  sung, 

In  this  old  nest  the  brood  is  ever  young. 

If  some  tired  wanderer,  resting  from  his  flight, 

Amid  the  gay  young  choristers  alight, 

These  gather  round  him,  mark  his  faded  plumes 


That  faintly  still  the  far-off  grove  perfumes, 
And  listen,  wondering  if  some  feeble  note 
Yet  lingers,  quavering  in  his  weary  throat:  — 
I,  whose  fresh  voice  yon  reel-faced  temple  knew, 
What  tune  is  left  me,  fit  to  sing  to  you  ? 
Ask  not  the  grandeurs  of  a  labored  song, 

21 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

But  let  my  easy  couplets    slide  along ; 

Much  could  I  tell  you  that  you  know  too  well ; 

Much  I  remember,  but  I  will  not  tell  ; 

Age  brings  experience  ;  graybeards  oft  are  wise, 

But  oh  !  how  sharp  a  youngster's  ears  and  eyes  ! 

My  cheek  was  bare  of  adolescent  down 
When  first  I  sought  the  Academic  town  : 


Slow  rolls  the  coach   along  the  dusty  road, 
Big  with  its  filial  and  parental  load  ; 
The  frequent  hills,  the  lonely  woods  are  past, 

23 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 


The  school-boy's  chosen  home  is  reached  at  last. 
I  see  it  now,  the  same  unchanging  spot, 
The  swinging  gate,  the  little  garden-plot, 
The  narrow  yard,  the  rock  that  made  its  floor, 
The  flat,  pale  house,  the  knocker-garnished  door, 
The  small,  trim  parlor,  neat,  decorous,  chill, 
The  strange,  new  faces,  kind,  but  grave  and  stiil  ; 

25 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Two,  creased  with  age,  —  or  what  I  then  called  age,  — 
Life's  volume  open  at  its  fiftieth  page  ; 
One  a  shy  maiden's,  pallid,  placid,  sweet 
As  the  first  snow-drop  which  the  sunbeams  greet  ; 
One  the  last  nursling's ;  slight  she  was,  and  fair, 
Her  smooth  white  forehead  warmed  with  auburn  hair ; 
Last  came  the  virgin  Hymen  long  had  spared, 
Whose  daily  cares  the  grateful  household  shared, 
Strong,  patient,  humble  ;  her  substantial  frame 
Stretched  the  chaste  draperies  I  forbear  to  name. 
Brave,  but  with  effort,  had  the  school-boy  come 
To  the  cold  comfort  of  a  stranger's  home  ; 
How  like  a  dagger  to  my  sinking  heart 
Came  the  dry  summons,  "it  is  time  to  part; 
"  Good-by  !"  "  Goo-ood-by  !  "  one  fond  maternal  kiss.  .  .  . 
Homesick  as  death !     Was  ever  pang  like  this  ?  .  .  . 
Too  young  as  yet  with  willing  feet  to  stray 
From  the  tame  fireside,  glad  to  get  away,  — 

29 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Too  old  to  let  my  watery  grief  appear,  — 
And  what  so  bitter  as  a  swallowed  tear  ! 

One  figure  still  my  vagrant  thoughts  pursue  ; 
First  boy  to  greet  me,  Ariel,  where  are  you  ? 
Imp  of  all  mischief,   heaven  alone  knows  how 


You  learned  it  all,  —  are  you  an  angel  now, 
Or  tottering  gently  down  the   slope  of  years, 
Your  face  grown  sober  in  the  vale  of  tears  ? 
Forgive  my  freedom  if  you  are  breathing  still  ; 
If  in  a  happier  world,  I  know  you  will. 
You  were  a  school-boy  —  what  beneath  the  sun 
So  like  a  monkey?     I  was  also  one. 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Strange,  sure  enough,  to  see  what  curious  shoots 
The  nursery  raises  from  the  study's  roots ! 
In  those  old   days  the  very,  very  good. 
Took  up  more  room  —  a  little  —  than  they  should  ; 
Something  too  much  one's  eyes  encountered  then 
Of  serious  youth  and  funeral-visaged  men  ; 
The  solemn  elders  saw  life's  mournful  half,  — 
Heaven  sent  this  boy,  whose  mission  was  to  laugh, 
Drollest  of  buffos,  Nature's  odd  protest, 
A  catbird  squealing  in  a  blackbird's  nest. 

Kind,  faithful  Nature  !  While  the  sour-eyed  Scot,  — 
Her  cheerful  smiles  forbidden  or  forgot,  — 
Talks  only  of  his  preacher  and  his  kirk,  — 


33 


THE   SCHOOL-BOY. 

Hears  five-hour  sermons  for  his  Sunday  work,  — 

Praying  and  fasting  till  his  meagre  face 

Gains  its  due  length,  the  genuine  sign  of  grace,  - 

An  Ayrshire  mother  in  the  land  of  Knox 

Her  embryo  poet  in  his  cradle  rocks  ;  — 

Nature,  long  shivering  in  her  dim  eclipse, 


35 


THE   SCHOOL-BOY. 

Steals  in  a  sunbeam  to  those  baby  lips ; 
So  to  its  home  her  banished  smile  returns, 
And  Scotland  sweetens  with  the  song  of  Burns ! 


The  morning  came ;  I  reached  the  classic  hall ; 
A  clock-face  eyed  me,  staring  from  the  wall ; 
Beneath  its  hands  a  printed  line  I  read : 
YOUTH  is  LIFE'S  SEED-TIME  ;  so  the  clock-face  said 

37 


THE   SCHOOL-BOY. 

Some  took  its  counsel,  as  the  sequel  showed,  — 
Sowed  —  their  wild  oats,  and  reaped  as  they  had  sowed. 

How  all  comes  back !  the  upward  slanting  floor  — 
The  masters'  thrones  that  flank  the  central  door  — 
The  long,  outstretching  alleys  that  divide 
The  rows  of  desks  that  stand  on  either  side  — 
The  staring  boys,  a  face  to  every  desk, 
Bright,  dull,  pale,  blooming,  common,  picturesque. 

Grave  is  the  Master's  look  ;  his  forehead  wears 
Thick  rows  of  wrinkles,  prints  of  worrying  cares  ; 
Uneasy  lie  the  heads  of  all  that  rule, 
His  most  of  all  whose  kingdom  is  a  school. 
Supreme  he  sits  ;  before  the  awful  frown 
That  bends  his  brows  the  boldest  eye  goes  down  ; 
Not  more  submissive  Israel  heard  and  saw 
At  Sinai's  foot  the  Giver  of  the  Law. 

Less   stern  he  seems,  who  sits  in  equal  state 
On  the  twin  throne  and    shares   the   empire's  weight  ; 

41 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Around  his  lips  the  subtle  life  that  plays 

Steals  quaintly  forth  in  many  a  jesting  phrase  ; 

A  lightsome  nature,  not  so  hard  to  chafe, 

Pleasant  when  pleased  ;  rough-handled,  not  so  safe  ; 

Some  tingling  memories  vaguely  I  -recall, 

But  to  forgive  him.     God  forgive  us  all  ! 


One  yet  remains,  whose  well-remembered  name 
Pleads  in  my  grateful  heart  its  tender  claim  ; 
His  was  the  charm  magnetic,  the  bright  look 
That  sheds  its  sunshine  on  the  dreariest  book  ; 
A  loving  soul  to  every  task  he  brought 
That  sweetly  mingled  with  the  lore  he  taught  ; 
Sprung  from  a  saintly  race  that  never  could 
From  youth  to  age  be  anything  but  good, 

43 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

His  few  brief  years  in  holiest  labors  spent, 

Earth  lost  too  soon  the  treasure  heaven  had  lent. 

Kindest  of  teachers,  studious  to  divine 

Some  hint  of  promise  in  my  earliest  line 

These  faint  and    faltering  words  thou   canst  not  hear 

Throb  from  a  heart  that  holds  thy  memory  dear. 

As  to  the  traveller's  eye  the  varied  plain 
Shows  through  the  window  of  the  flying  train, 
A  mingled  landscape,  rather  felt  than  seen, 
A  gravelly  bank,  a  sudden  flash  of  green, 
A  tangled  wood,  a  glittering  stream  that  flows 
Through  the  cleft  summit  where  the  cliff  once  rose, 
All  strangely  blended  in  a  hurried  gleam, 
Rock,  wood,  waste,  meadow,  village,  hill-side,  stream,  - 
So,  as  we  look  behind  us,  life  appears, 
Seen  through  the  vista  of  our  bygone  years. 

Yet  in  the  dead  past's  shadow-filled  domain, 
Some  vanished  shapes  the  hues  of  life  retain ; 

45 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Unbidden,  oft,  before  our  dreaming  eyes 

From  the  vague  mists  in  memory's  path  they  rise. 

So  comes  his  blooming  image  to  my  view, 

,<;.   .' 


The  friend  of  joyous  days  when  life  was  new, 
Hope  yet  untamed,  the  blood  of  youth  unchilled, 
No  blank  arrear  of  promise  unfulfilled, 
Life's  flower  yet  hidden   in  its  sheltering  fold. 
Its  pictured  canvas  yet  to  be  unrolled. 
His  the  frank  smile  I  vainly  look  to  greet, 
His  the  warm  grasp  my  clasping  hand  should  meet ; 
How  would  our  lips  renew  their  school-boy  talk, 
Our  feet  retrace  the  old  familiar  walk ! 

47 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 


For  thee  no  more  earth's  cheerful  morning  shines 
Through  the  green  fringes  of  thy  tented  pines  ; 
Ah  me  !  is  heaven  so  far  thou  canst  not  hear, 
Or  is  thy  viewless  spirit  hovering  near, 
A  fair  young  presence,  bright  with  morning's  glow, 
The  fresh-cheeked  boy  of  fifty  years  ago  ? 
Yes,  fifty  years,  with  all  their  circling  suns, 

49 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Behind  them  all  my  glance  reverted  runs  ; 
Where  now  that  time  remote,  its  griefs,  its  joys, 
Where  are  its  gray-haired  men,  its  bright-haired  boys  ? 
Where  is  the  patriarch  time  could  hardly  tire,  - 
The  good  old,  wrinkled,  immemorial  "  squire  "  ? 
(An  honest  treasurer,  like  a  black-plumed  swan, 
Not  every  day  our  eyes  may  look  upon.) 
Where  the  tough    champion  who,  with  Calvin's  sword, 
In  wordy  conflicts  battled  for  the  Lord  ? 
Where  the  grave  scholar,  lonely,  calm,  austere, 


*        THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Whose  voice  like  music  charmed  the  listening  ear, 
Whose  light  rekindled,  like  the  morning  star 
Still  shines  upon  us  through  the  gates  ajar  ? 


; 


Where  the  still,  solemn,  weary,  sad-eyed  man, 
Whose  care-worn  face  my  wondering  eyes  would  scan, 
His  features  wasted  in  the  lingering  strife 
With  the  pale  foe  that  drains  the  student's  life  ? 
Where  my  old  friend,  the  scholar,  teacher,  saint, 

53 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Whose  creed,  some  hinted,  showed  a  speck  of  taint  ; 

He  broached  his  own  opinion,  which  is  not 

Lightly  to  be  forgiven  or  forgot ; 

Some  riddle's  point,  —  I  scarce  remember  now,  — 

HonW,  perhaps,  where  they  said  norm? — ou. 

(If  the  unlettered  greatly  wish  to  know 

Where  lies  the  difference  betwixt  oi  and  o, 

Those  of  the  curious  who  have  time  may  search 

Among  the  stale  conundrums  of  their  church.)  - 

Beneath  his  roof  his  peaceful  life  I  shared, 

And  for  his  modes  of  faith  I  little  cared,— 

I,  taught  to  judge  men's  dogmas  by  their  deeds, 

Long  ere  the  days  of  india-rubber  creeds. 

,    Why  should  we  look  one  common  faith  to  find, 

Where  one  in  every  score  is  color-blind  ? 

If  here  on  earth  they  know  not  red  from  green, 

Will  they  see  better  into  things  unseen  ? 

Once  more  to  time's  old  grave-yard  I  return 

55 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

And  scrape  the  moss  from  memory's  pictured  urn. 
Who,  in  these  days  when  all  things  go  by  steam, 
Recalls  the  stage-coach  with  its  four-horse  team  ? 


Its  sturdy  driver,  —  who  remembers  him  ? 
Or  the  old  landlord,  saturnine  and  grim, 
Who  left  our  hill-top  for  a  new  abode 
And  reared  his  sign-post  farther  down  the  road  ? 
Still  in  the  waters  of  the  dark  Shawshine 

57 


THE   SCHOOL-BOY. 

Do  the  young  bathers  splash  and  think  they  're  clean  ? 

Do  pilgrims  find  their  way  to  Indian  Ridge, 

Or  journey  onward  to  the  far-off  bridge, 

And  bring  to  younger  ears    the  story  back 

Of  the  broad  stream,  the  mighty  Merrimack  ? 

Are  there  still  truant  feet  that  stray  beyond 

These  circling  bounds  to  Pomp's  or  Raggett's  pond, 

Or  where  the  legendary  name  recalls 

The  forest's  earlier  tenant  —  "Deer-jump  Falls"  ? 

Yes,  every  nook  these  youthful  feet  explore, 
Just  as  our  sires  and  grandsires  did  of  yore  ; 
So  all  life's  opening  paths,  where  nature  led 
Their  fathers'  feet,  the  children's  children  tread. 
Roll  the  round  century's  five  score   years  away, 
Call  from  our  storied  past  that  earliest  day 
When  great  Eliphalet  (I  can  see  him  now, — 
Big  name,  big  frame,  big  voice  and  beetling  brow), 
Then  young  Eliphalet  —  ruled  the  rows  of  boys 

61 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

In  homespun  gray  or  old  world  corduroys,  — 
And  save  for  fashion's  whims,  the  benches  show 
The  self-same  youths,  the  very  boys  we  know. 

Time  works  strange  marvels  ;  since  I  trod  the  green 
And  swung  the  gates,  what  wonders  I  have  seen  ! 
But  come  what  will,  —  the  sky  itself  may  fall  — 
As  things  of  course  the  boy  accepts  them  all. 
The  prophet's  chariot,  drawn  by  steeds  of  flame, 
For  daily  use  our  travelling  millions  claim  ; 
The  face  we  love  a  sunbeam  makes  our  own ; 
No  more  the  surgeon  hears  the  sufferer's  groan  ; 
What  unwrit  histories  wrapped  in  darkness  lay 
Till  shovelling  Schliemann  bared  them  to  the  day  ! 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Your  Richelieu  says,  and  says  it  well,  my  lord, 
The  pen  is  (sometimes)  mightier  than  the  sword  ; 
Great  is  the  goosequill,  say  we  all  ;  Amen  ! 
Sometimes  the  spade  is  mightier  than  the  pen  ; 
It  shows  where  Babel's  terraced  walls  were  raised, 
The  slabs  that  cracked  when  Nimrod's  palace  blazed, 


Unearths  Mycenae,  rediscovers  Troy,  — 
Calmly  he  listens,  that  immortal  boy. 
A  new  Prometheus  tips    our  wands  with  fire, 
A  mightier  Orpheus  strains  the  whispering  wire, 

65 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Whose  lightning  thrills  the  lazy  winds  outrun 
And  hold  the  hours  as  Joshua  stayed  the  sun,  — 
So  swift,  in  truth,  we  hardly  find  a  place 
For  those  dim  fictions  known  as  time  and  space. 
Still  a  new  miracle  each  year  supplies,  — 
See  at  his  work  the  chemist  of  the  skies, 
Who  questions  Sirius  in  his  tortured  rays 
And  steals  the  secret  of  the  solar  blaze. 
Hush !  while  the  window-rattling  bugles  play 
The  nation's  airs  a  hundred  miles  away  ! 
That  wicked  phonograph  !  hark !  how  it  swears  ! 
Turn  it  again  and  make  it  say  its  prayers  ! 
And  was  it  true,  then,  what  the  story  said 
Of  Oxford's  friar  and  his  brazen  head  ? 
While  wondering  science  stands,  herself  perplexed 
At  each  day's  miracle,  and  asks  "  what  next  ? " 
The  immortal  boy,  the  coming  heir  of  all, 
Springs  from  his  desk  to    "  urge  the  flying  ball," 

67 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 


Cleaves  with  his  bending 
oar  the  glassy  waves, 
With    sinewy   arm    the 
dashing  current  braves, 


The  same  bright  creature 

in  these  haunts  of  ours 
That  Eton  shadowed  with 

her  "  antique  towers." 

Boy  !     Where  is  he  ?  the  long-limbed  youth  inquires, 
Whom  his  rough  chin  with  manly  pride  inspires  ; 
Ah,  when  the  ruddy  cheek  no  longer  glows, 
When  the  bright  hair  is  white  as  winter  snows, 
\Vhen  the  dim  eye  has  lost  its  lambent  flame, 
Sweet  to  his  ear  will  be  his  school-boy  name ! 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Nor  think  the  difference  mighty  as  it  seems 
Between  life's  morning  and  its  evening  dreams  ; 
Fourscore,  like  twenty,  has  its  tasks  and  toys  ; 
In  earth's  wide  school-house  all  are  girls  and  boys. 

Brothers,  forgive  my  wayward  fancy.     Who 

Can  guess  beforehand  what  his  pen  will  do  ? 

Too  light  my  strain  for  listeners  such  as  these, 

Whom  graver  thoughts  and  soberer  speech  shall  please. 

Is  he  not  here  whose  breath  of  holy  song 

Has  raised  the  downcast  eyes  of  faith   so  long? 

Are  they  not  here,  the  strangers  in  your  gates, 

For  whom  the  wearied  ear  impatient  waits,  — 

The  large-brained  scholars  whom   their  toils  release,  — 

The  bannered  heralds  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  ? 

Such  was  the  gentle  friend  whose  youth   nnblamed 
In  years  long  past  our  student-benches  claimed  ; 
Whose  name,  illumined  on  the  sacred  page, 

73 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Lives  in  the  labors  -of  his  riper  age  ; 

Such  he  whose  record   time's  destroying  march 

Leaves  uneffaced  on  Zion's  springing  arch  : 


Not  to  the  scanty  phrase  of  measured  song, 
Cramped  in  its  fetters,  names  like  these  belong  ; 
One  ray  they  lend  to  gild  my  slender  line,  — 
Their  praise  I  leave  to  sweeter  lips  than  mine. 

Home  of  our  sires,  where  learning's  temple  rose, 
While  yet  they  struggled  with  their  banded  foes, 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 


As  in  the  west  thy  century's  sun  descends, 
One  parting  gleam  its  dying  radiance  lends. 
Darker  and  deeper  though  the  shadows  fall 
From  the  gray  towers  on   Doubting  Castle's  wall, 
Though  Pope  and  Pagan  re-array  their  hosts, 
And  her  new  armor  youthful   Science  boasts, 
Truth,  for  whose  altar  rose  this  holy  shrine, 
Shall  fly  for  refuge  to  these  bowers  of  thine  ; 
No  past  shall  chain  her  with  its  rusted  vow, 
77 


THE    SCHOOL-BOY. 

No  Jew's  phylactery  bind  her  Christian  brow, 
But  faith  shall  smile  to  find  her  sister  free 
And  nobler  manhood  draw  its  life  from  thee. 

Long  as  the  arching  skies    above  thee  spread, 
As  on  thy  groves  the  dews  of  heaven  are  shed, 
With  currents  widening  still  from  year  to  year, 
And  deepening  channels,  calm,  untroubled,  clear, 
Flow  the  twin  streamlets  from  thy  sacred  hill  — 
Pieria's  fount  and  Siloam's  shaded  rill ! 


79 


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